


Stand Guard Against the Night

by nerdyydragon



Series: Kingsman Tumblr Ficlets [20]
Category: Kingsman (2014), Kingsman (2015), Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Getting Together, Harry Hart Lives, M/M, its teen for discussions of ptsd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 16:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8217403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdyydragon/pseuds/nerdyydragon
Summary: They tell you that heroes are people who save the world, who do good things and stop unfortunate events from damaging the lives of others. They don't tell you how badly the heroes suffer for it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This one is definitely more depressing than quite a fair number of my other works, but I still don't own any of the content in it.

Kingsman agents, as with all such people in their particular line of work, were prone to nightmares and extreme cases of PTSD. Well handled, it became as manageable as it could get given the consistent stimulation. But just because they could be active members of society with no one the wiser did not mean that night terrors simply went away.

Such was the case of one Gary ‘Eggsy’ Unwin, Kingsman agent Excalibur (the knighting of his old mentor’s codename had been dubbed too traumatizing, and had since been retired). Upon Harry’s return and his instalment as Arthur, rumours began to circulate, fuelled continuously be seemingly subtle glances and speculation, and the flat-sharing between the two while Eggsy’s current home was being “fumigated”, which everyone save perhaps Harry and the man himself seemed to believe with only a few smattering grains of salt.

As it stood, Eggsy had been staying with Harry for almost a fortnight, and although they danced around each other and the complicated emotional situation their living quarters created, neither seemed to be willing to broach the subject of the possibility of mutual sentiment. So Harry slept in his bedroom, and Eggsy stayed across the hall in the guest suite, and both suffered silently. It wasn’t until the tenth night that things seemed to escalate.

Were someone to lift the roof of Harry’s flat in the Mews as though it happened to be a dollhouse and look down on the upper floor, they would find Eggsy thrashing around in his bed, the sheets a tangled, useless mass around his waist and legs serving to make the whole fight worse, his torso drenched in sweat that collected in his clavicle and caused his hair to stick to his forehead. Inside his mind, however, was so very much more disturbing.

_ “Can’t you see that everything I’ve done has been about trying to repay him?” _

_ “I have to go, we’ll discuss it when I get back.” _

_ Horror, watching Harry rip through those innocent people - as terrible as they may be - with no control over his own actions. The absolute carnage and destruction he unleashed. The burn of brandy straight down his throat and into his bones, his lungs, choking him. _

_ “Arthur, Harry’s dead” _

_ “Galahad is dead. And you’re the one who killed him.” _

_ Incredulity, then disgust. Flashbacks to the hot car park, the Kentucky summer sun boiling the air as it rose off the asphalt in waves. Staring down the barrel of a gun that didn’t feel like his own, pulling the trigger, watching Harry tumble backwards into a motionless heap, fear of his own mortality - of Eggsy’s - still in his eyes. Knowing he hadn’t done it himself didn’t make it go away. _

_ The reek of death around him as he plowed through what seemed like an ocean of people, the lives of a planet full of innocents resting on his head. The feeling of his skin sitting not quite right against his muscles, wanting to pull it off, wanting it to stop stop stop stop stop it was too much too much he couldn’t do it, he had to, no matter how much he hated himself. Watching heads explode from bodies and seeing grey matter and blood painting the stone tunnel walls an inky black. The sharp slice of metal stinging his skin and marking him deep - down to his soul - permanent reminders of what he’d done. Staring death in the face. Watching a woman die knowing that he had held her life in his hands and had shattered it, thrown it to the floor and ground it under his heel. The monster inside of him clawing up his throat, willing to cry in agony or vengeance or rage, begging to be heard. _

_ “I’d rather be with Harry, thanks.” _

Eggsy woke with a start, Harry’s name on his lips before he could catch it. He shook violently, panted in the darkness of his room (it was too dark, too similar to the way blood had all but cascaded -)

“Eggsy, oh, my darling, are you alright?” Harry pushed open his door, soft warm light from across the hall spilling into the room as the man crossed in three quick steps and settled himself carefully on the bed. In lieu of reply, Eggsy threw himself forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Harry, still shuddering as he rested his ear against his chest and counted heartbeats. He was faintly aware of Harry’s own arms circling him, hold gentle enough to break should he wish and rubbing calming circles into his back. “I’m here. It’s going to be alright. Just breath.” They stayed that way for several moments, until finally Eggsy let out a shuddering breath he hadn’t been aware that he was holding and pulled back slightly.

“Sorry for waking ya.” Harry shook his head and frowned slightly.

“Never apologize for something like this. Your health is important.” The careful phrasing and coupling of his tone said that  _ ‘your health is important to me.’ _ He seemed to steel himself for what he was going to say next. “You’ve nearly soaked through the sheets, but I feel as though neither of us would be really up to changing them at the moment. If you don’t have any qualms about it, you can pop across the hall and pick a side of my bed. It’s entirely up to you, of course.” Eggsy began to shift around on the bed, trying to pull himself out of the sheets, and between the two of them they eventually managed it. Harry led him by the hand across the hall and into his own bedroom, settling them down originally on opposite sides of the mattress but both gravitating towards the centre. Harry reached to turn off the bedside lamp, but one of Eggsy’s arms reached out to stop him.

“Could you leave it on, do you think?” It had been ages since he’d slept with a light on, not since he was very young, but the thought of keeping one on now seemed suddenly very appealing. Harry blinked at him, and then adjusted his hand from reaching for the power button to the dimmer switch, making the light cast about the room less intense in their proximity to it. “Thank you, Harry.” Scooting himself over, Eggsy buried his nose into the crook of Harry’s neck, near his pulse point, and took a deep breath in. Unconsciously his body curled closer to the other man, and he tucked his limbs closer together. “Is this okay?” He asked shyly, attempting to peek up through his lashes. Instead of replying, Harry snaked his arms around him, one around his back tugging him closer still and the other stretching beneath the pillows to cushion his head, and nudged his knee gently between Eggsy’s calves.

“Perfect.”

Both men drifted into a deeper sleep than they had been previously, trusting the other with the vulnerable parts of themselves. They both woke thrice more before the sun rose, though neither’s nightmares seemed quite as bad with the heat of the other person pressed against them. Their lives may not get easier, but if they had anything at all, they had this. And perhaps, like a sunrise cutting through the clouds on a stormy morning, they could find a little bit of good in the endless layer of grey.


End file.
